Wand at the Ready
by diva.gonzo
Summary: One-shot; Complete. Ron's been gone three weeks on an Auror mission and all he wants is a hot meal and his bed. Hermione had other ideas in mind. Rated M for Ron's dirty mouth, some inspection time, and plenty of lemon fluff. Cover art generously provided with permission by Anxiouspineapples.


**A/N:** Written for my favorite Drapple Shipper, Drappleluv, who gave me one hilarious prompt that took a couple of days to let it bloom into something that… well, everyone can read it and decide what they think.  
**Rated M (NC-17/NSFW) **because of the subject material further in the fic. You have been warned. - _DG_

* * *

Three days. 72 hours. That's how long Ron Weasley was supposed to be gone on the Auror mission. He was a Junior Auror and supposed to be limited in the time he was away from the office, at least according to the written regulations Hermione knew like the back of her hand.

Instead, it was now 21 days, 8 hours and 38 minutes since she last kissed his tender lips. It had been 21 days, 11 hours, and 15 minutes since she last heard his bellowing moan of bliss reverberate through her sweat covered body.

Hermione knew the risks of Ron's intended choice of career. He wanted to be an Auror more than anything, even more than a professional Quidditch Keeper. She knew the risks involved in being an Auror. She could quote stats until the other person was asleep from boredom about burnout, injury, or worse from the line of duty.

But none of the facts were a comfort to her in those cold nights in their bed. She missed his snoring. She missed the half-asleep groping Ron would do, looking for her in their shared king sized bed. She missed him waking her up in the most energetic ways, ones that left her hiding the hitch in her step while working at the Ministry.

Hermione made a note to speak with Director Robards tomorrow and privately inquire when Ron might be home, since he was weeks overdue. And she'd write another letter. That was the only way she could cope on those days when she was randy as can be with only her wand for company. A love letter for the love of her life was how she coped when the loneliness became unbearable. With quills on parchment, set to where only Ron could read them with a particular incantation, she would write the most lascivious things for him, to keep him encouraged while desperate to return.

The Floo lit up in bright green and Ron stepped out. He was decked out in his black dragonskin jacket, black wool beanie, and black BDU's issued for the junior Aurors. He barely had time to put down his bag before Hermione jumped into his arms.

Words and lips mingled together before words finally got in the way.

Ron landed with a thud on the couch nearest to the fireplace. "Fuck, that hurt."

Hermione shifted off of his lap and sat down next to him, replacing her lips back on his. Her hands worked quickly, sliding under his jacket collar and onto the skin of his neck. Ron pulled back panting hard. "And hello to you, too."

"Sorry," she said contritely and sat back on the couch. "It's been weeks."

Ron ran his hands up and down the back of his flushed neck. "Yeah, about that, see, there was – "

"You don't have to talk about the case if you don't want to."

Ron put a long digit across her swollen lips. "I do, and you need to hear it, I reckon."

Hermione nodded under his fingers before taking it and giving it a salacious kiss, mimicking what she would do for him on occasion. He groaned and pulled his hand away from her. "Damn it, stop that."

She smirked but did as he asked. "Sorry, but the only word I knew you weren't hurt or dead was from Harry and he only said that you were still out and that you weren't dead."

"Yeah, about that, we were observing this bloke in a place east of Norwich called Greater Plumstead. Anyway, it was far from glorious, just watching this bloke come and go from a tiny cottage of a residence. But he was the only link we had to Lestrange. The bastard was coming into the country illegally and we had no clue how the bugger was doing it. So we stayed there, watching and waiting."

"But three weeks? You were supposed to be gone all of three days. You're a junior Auror, not a senior one yet."

"Hermione, I'm getting there, alright?"

Hermione sat back further into the couch and kept quiet.

"Sorry, but it's been a fuckup of a day. I didn't reckon to bite your head off."

She rolled her eyes but kept quiet as asked.

"Anyway, we were keeping watch on the bloke. He ran a Muggle Coach company, where –"

"Yes Ron, I'm familiar with the coach. Go ahead."

Ron snorted but settled back onto the couch. "But he was also a smuggler, getting Wizards out of the area. He wasn't a slaver; those arseholes disgust me. No, this one was a pure trafficker, having his dodgy uncle charge thousands of galleons to escape to the Continent, or go out from there. The ones coming in would get on the coach, hiding like Muggles, for London or wherever undocument wizards and witches run to."

"Ron, that's not fair and you know it."

"I know, but I'm just telling you what I saw. There were three carriages leaving a night from that place. Two more were coming in every morning. That's about 200 a day coming and a hundred or so leaving every night. "

Hermione sat further back and crossed her arms. "Fine. Go ahead."

Ron leaned back on the couch to collect his thoughts. "Anyway, we see this one fellow come toddling out of the house. He looked old enough to be Dumbledore's Great Uncle. But something didn't sit right with me. I dunno what it was, at least I didn't at first. But then he looked at where we were at and went back into the house."

"So he saw you?"

"I reckon so, but I dunno how. We were concealed behind a hedgerow and keeping watch in a tent."

"Who was with you?"

"Oh, just that git Williamson. Good enough bloke, I reckon but he's pants for company. But that codger never came out of the house. We figured he guessed someone was there, maybe with a sneakascope and Disapparated from inside the house."

"Did you learn anything?"

"Yeah, that codger came back a week later. He apparated right outside the front gate and walked right in. We didn't see him leave, either. Bugger did that two more times before everything went sideways."

"What happened? Why were you gone so long?"

"Robards said we were short-handed at that time. Two Aurors went down in a wandfight in London and we were being kept on station for the time being, building the case against the smuggler. That's why Harry knew we were OK but I couldn't contact you at all."

"Can you tell me what happened? Or is that privileged information until I see it as a docket listing?" Hermione scooted closer towards her boyfriend and checked his hands.

"I'm fine. Williamson got a stunner in the face but that was the worst of it, at least for us. Anyway, Robards sent word that we could arrest the Uncle and the nephew for trafficking. He'd hope there were records inside the business to implicate when Lestrange was coming and going. So, we came out from the concealed tent and were approaching the smugglers. Only one other bloke was out there, some wizard who didn't look too questionable, not like Dung does. We were walking up the drive to the building where the nephew and uncle were outside checking with the driver, along with the other bloke when the other bugger saw us. He turned his wand on the nephew and blew him off his feet. We dodged the blast and by the time the dust settled, the third guy was gone, the uncle a mess and the driver injured. We collared the driver but he was only a hired hand out of London, working to put his kids through school. The nephew was dead and if the uncle wakes, he might as well be dead."

"Was it that bad?" Hermione inquired by running her hands up and down his sprawled leg.

"Yeah. It was. I hope the poor bugger died instantly."

"And Lestrange?"

Ron frowned. "That was the bastard who pulled his wand. The records inside the building showed when he was coming and going. That was how he was getting in and out of the country. But now that it's gone, he's stuck unless he finds another smuggler." Ron snorted in disgust. "He was within arm's reach and got away. One of these days, I'm gonna nab that bastard and put his sorry excuse of an arse back in Azkaban."

"I'm proud of you." Hermione leaned over and kissed him gently. "How can I help tonight?"

Ron sunk lower into the couch cushions. "I really just want something to eat and fall asleep in our bed. I've been on that bloody cot for three weeks and it's been murder."

Hermione frowned slightly before getting up from the couch.

"Bugger."

She stopped and turned. "What?"

"I'm a selfish sod, that's what."

"What are you on about, Ronald?"

Ron pulled Hermione back onto his lap and proceeded to snog her rather silly. What started playful turned passionate almost immediately. Ron rolled her from his lap onto the couch, pressing her into the cushions and covering her petite torso with his lean muscled frame. His hands roamed over her body and hers followed as well. A squeeze of his bum incited a growl.

Ron pulled back slightly to see his girlfriend trying to catch her breath. "That's what. We've been together long enough that I know that pout. You had plans for us tonight that might have included more than just me eating and falling asleep. That's what that pout was about, isn't it?"

Hermione relaxed under his tired gaze but a blush crept across her cheeks. "I had. You've been gone so long and I missed you –"

Ron leaned down and snogged her again, gently coaxing her for more with the tip of his tongue. Slowly, her hands pushed down on his hips into the cradle of her hips. She shifted her body to accommodate his hips and he thrust slightly. He leaned over and nuzzled her ear, nipping it gently.

"You said you were hungry. I'll get up and make you something for dinner."

"Dinner can wait." Ron placed an open-mouthed kiss right behind her ear. "I'm hungry for you now. Starving, really."

"But, Ron, we're on the couch in the parlor. The Floo isn't locked. Anyone can see us."

Ron stopped kissing on her neck and looked at her. His eyes had grown darker in the dimly lit room. "Where's your wand? You've banished my clothes often enough?" Ron untangled his long limbs from his girlfriend and stood before her. "Well, banish my clothes and lock the Floo."

Hermione rolled her eyes but refused to pull her wand. She stood up and went to the fireplace to lock it. She then walked back to her boyfriend standing there looking amused. Hermione slid her hands across the buttons of his uniform jacket and divested him of the overcoat and then the uniform jacket under it. Under it was the uniform button up shirt. Ever slowly, she removed his button up, leaving him in his vest.

Ron watched his girlfriend work meticulously on his uniform, taking no care in placing it neatly. Once he was down to his vest, she started to pull the orange shirt from his skin, only needing his assistance to get it over his head. He tossed it in the corner next to the fireplace. He turned back to her and watched her trace each freckle with her delicate hands, looking him over to make sure that there were no injuries he didn't bother to notice.

Ron stood still as Hermione then went after the buckle of his trousers. She deftly released the leverage bar and watched his trousers droop a little more down onto his hips. "Were you eating enough while out on the mission?"

"Probably not, since I wasn't here and we couldn't go out much without the possibility of being seen. There was this one pub nearby, gaudy place that had pink walls, but the food was pretty good. Their cottage pie was decent, but not as good as Mum makes it."

Hermione shook her head and turned her attention to the zips on the side of his size 12 boots on his feet. He helped by lifting his leg and letting her peel the boot and rather pungent socks off. "When was the last time you washed your socks?"

Ron cringed. "It's been a while, probably."

Hermione shook her head and threw the socks further away from the couch. She sat back and watched Ron's heartbeat through the fabric of his trousers and pants. "It seems you're excited."

"Quit teasing. I know you've been gagging for me for weeks."

Hermione smirked and started on the button of his trousers. She had it unbuttoned and pulled the zip of his trousers down. She stopped and looked up at Ron. Adoration was showing on his face. He gave her one look and she replied wordlessly, running her hand over the top of his black pants hiding his erection.

Ron moaned at her deft touch.

She put her hands inside his pants and gently lifted the compression elastic of the waistband over his manhood and shoved the fabric down his long legs. He lifted his leg and let her pull the trousers and pants over his feet, discarding them to side where the rest of his uniform lay.

She turned back and saw all of him right in front of her face. Confusion crossed her face.

"What is it?"

"Um, maybe it's just me desiring you so much this evening, but I think you've grown."

"Grown? You mean my tadger and bits? You're barking."

Hermione looked like she was analyzing a potion, glancing at his bouncing member in front of her face.

"Um, ya mind? Lil' Ron's getting cold and wants to be somewhere warm right about now."

"Just a second. I just want to make sure I'm not going mad."

Hermione ran her hand up and down his appendage, checking with her fingers each freckle, vein, and crevice that she knew and loved so well. She traced each side with a short fingertip while pointedly ignoring the coarse words spilling from Ron's lips.

Hermione still wasn't sure that she was correct in her assessment so she put her hands on his shaft, squeezing her fingers in a vain attempt to check the girth. She pressed downward and looked at the imprecise measurement. "Maybe an inch? It's hard to tell like this," she whispered before taking a sumptuous lick from the edge of her hand to the tip.

Large hands threaded into her hair and onto her shoulder. "Merlin's wank socks! Warn me when you're going to do that."

She laughed quietly before returning to her Ron flavored lolly in her hands. She took another mouthful, running her tongue all around and gently hummed a few bars of a song she once heard. But he didn't fit quite right in her hands. Either it was the time away, or he had another growth spurt and hadn't realized it. Either way she was anxious to try him out.

Ron wobbled in her hands and she got an idea as a final measure. Hermione took her right hand off his broomstick and fondled his bollocks.

Ron groaned again. "If you keep this up you won't have any fun tonight."

Hermione stopped her ministrations and looked at her boyfriend. Sweat was beaded along his face and dripping down his chin. "I'm doing this for you. I thought if you got the first one out of your system, it would take the edge off so we'd have time upstairs for more. See, my wand wasn't much help while you were gone."

Ron stood before his girlfriend like a bludger hit him on the head. "You really want to polish my knob first, before I get a leg over?"

Hermione used her hands on him, keeping the tension building. "Why, yes, I do. I need you tonight. My wand isn't sufficient and yours," she looked salaciously at the appendage in her hands, "looks desperate for me tonight. I can feel that desire right in my hands."

Ron groaned once again as the coil in his bits tightened. "You're tugging on my tadger all this time, trying to get me off, so we can shag all night?"

Hermione blushed fiercely. "Well, that had been my plan, but if you're not interested," she grinned in a wanton way, "I can always let you finish this _on your own_ and I can get back to my reading."

Hermione took her hand off of his wand and he growled in frustration. "Bloody hell, witch. Fine. Carry on, but I'll need a sandwich before we go upstairs."

"That's also part of the plan, Ron. But I was honest. I think your," Hermione motioned to his rather impressive display in front of her face, "penis has grown, or that it's just that I now noticed. I'm eager to see if I am right." She replaced her hand back on his burgeoning shaft. "I'll know for certain once we're upstairs in our bed."

She moved her hands in tandem while returning to giving him immense pleasure. He moaned, louder, thrusting his hips while she worked to complete his task.

"Fuck, Hermione, gonna," He thrust twice, feeling the coil snap low in his hips. He stood stock still, trying not to pass out from the affection and attention she paid him. Minutes passed while he tried to remember to breathe. The first one was so wonderful. He panted for what felt like hours, like he'd been running in training.

Ron opened his eyes and saw the debauched witch sitting in front of him, looking demure on the edge of the couch. "Hi," she said shyly.

Ron pulled her up from the edge of the couch and snogged her senseless. Only when he was on the verge of passing out did he pull back from kissing Hermione. "You're fucking fantastic."

"I missed you too." Hermione smiled before she retrieved his trousers. "You might want to slip these on if we're going to kitchen for a spell. I don't want you to get too cold."

"I still get dinner too?"

Hermione took two steps towards the kitchen. "You do. I might have tended to your needs just now but it doesn't mean that I'm not anxious for some reciprocation."

"You mean you want me to – " Ron waved in her general direction

"Yes, please. I want you to speak Parseltongue and call forth your basilisk."

Ron groaned at her feeble attempt at dorm room humor. "Hermione, don't ever say that again. I don't need nightmares thinking about my bits like a gigantic monster that almost killed Harry." Ron shook his head. "Where the bloody hell did you hear that from?"

"I borrowed a book from Luna while you were gone. It seemed silly enough to make you laugh." Hermione smiled. "Fine then. I want you to take me for a long ride on your Cleansweep. Is that too much for a girl to ask?"

Ron pulled his trousers up and zipped them. They perched precariously on his boney hips. "Food, sex, and Quidditch. Now you're talking my language."

They walked arm in arm into the kitchen.


End file.
